Blooded
by xlightfromabovex
Summary: 11/50 of the 50Shuffle Challenge! Could mere weapons feel anything so close to love? SephirothxGenesis oneshot drabbley thing.


**[A/N: 11/50 of the 50Shuffle Challenge, to Blooded by Within Temptation :3 I feel like I haven't done anything in a while, which isn't really true – only a week and a half, I believe – but my sense of time is always screwed up xD Well, another Sephesis [with added Angeal xD] drabbley thing here (: Next up will be a childhood Angeal/Gen ;D Cause I want to do one haha~]**

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It never changed, that vicious, fierce thrill. The sensation of power, raw strength flooding through his veins like molten rock, adrenaline pulsing out to every inch of marble skin. The slip of the blade through mortal flesh was always so beautifully smooth, ripping lives away to trail after the sweeping steel like a veil of blood; the cries of agony always too late as their owners realised what he'd done. So swift, so simple – but not painless.

For his victims, at least.

It was a sadistic pleasure, this business – the cursory exchange of life for death, battle cries for screams of horror, vitality for mortality. Somewhere deep inside his mind he knew that there was no real reason for such a culling of enemies, such focused massacre; he knew that somehow there was a price for human lives, even those taken so callously and yet he was not interested in paying. Those who commanded him could take care of that – he was, after all, merely a means to an end.

A weapon, nothing more.

The thought never really bothered him; he had no illusions of grandeur, no foolish fantasies as to assume that he would have some higher purpose. The life of a SOLDIER was what he was born to, what he was raised for. Others – some jealous of his meteoric rise to fame, some merely wishing to fulfil that unattainable dream of becoming a hero – followed in his light footsteps, all in awe of that great, inhuman powerhouse whose name was whispered behind hands, announced on news broadcasts and which struck dread and intimidation into the worthless souls of his victims.

Sephiroth.

There were only three people in this world who were never too awed to speak to him, whose eyes never lit up in adoration – or hate – when they heard his name. The first, Hojo, he mainly disregarded. The scientist was dug too deep into his petty experiments and arrogance to be of much significance to Sephiroth, apart from as an object of deep-rooted bitterness. There was obviously intelligence gleaming in those hooded black eyes, yet he never looked too close; there was cunning madness there too, and the foreboding of a dark secret never spoken of but frequently hinted at. The scientist's mere presence was enough to unsettle even the most cold, unfeeling bastard; apart from simple necessity, Sephiroth spent as little time around him as possible.

Which left the remaining two people immune to his influence; Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley, both late of Banora and obviously attached. On first meeting them, Sephiroth had seen immediately their connection; they were totally certain of each others' presence; they always knew where the other was. It seemed, more and more to Sephiroth, that Angeal was the only one who could truly control – or at least weather – Genesis' volatile nature, like a solid foundation unshaken by roaring earthquakes. The more he saw how the black-haired boy had such an influence over the fiery redhead, the more Sephiroth wanted to take the chance himself; to see whether his natural iciness could still that restless flame, dominate it.

Which was why, on that night so long ago, when Rhapsodos had come to him with his eyes burning from the kill and his hands not even washed of blood, he had welcomed him with open arms and fallen deep into him without reservation. The bare memory of that night was enough to raise hairs on his skin, even now, when it had been repeated countless times over the years. At that point, neither really expected the wild tryst to amount to anything; it had been mainly gratification and partly curiosity, at first at least.

But the sensations were intoxicating, the struggle for domination and the uniting of their opposing natures combining in a whirl of desire and passion to make a most heady brew. And despite himself, despite the indifference he held so dear, Sephiroth found himself longing for more; and Genesis seemed quite content to let him have it. The presence of the redhead became so frequent and completing that Sephiroth soon relied on him; he was invasive, demanding, yet willing to throw everything away when the General called.

He hadn't complained in the slightest when Genesis had chosen to bring Angeal into their games; it merely made it more interesting and, dare he say it, _fun_ – although, of course, he would always end up taking Genesis at the end of the exhausting yet infinitely satisfying nights, Rhapsodos didn't seem to mind, seemingly enjoying the lead up to the kill as keenly as the act itself. Angeal was usually too ravaged by the end to care.

And it was now, as Sephiroth reflected on all these things while the sun rose slowly, he realised that they were the only two people who could make him feel truly _alive_; not a weapon or a machine, designed only for killing. These two men – one currently lying across his chest with glowing eyes securely closed, auburn hair ruffled, the other snug against his side, also sound asleep – were the only two people in this whole empty world who could make him feel_ human_.

And it was then that he realised that maybe he could love too.


End file.
